We'll fight this the way we always have
by offtoneverlandd
Summary: Katniss Everdeen receives some unexpected news about her current state of being/Post-Epilogue/One shot.


**Hello again. Thanks for the reviews on my other fanfics! Truly means a lot. This story is post-epilogue and a one shot. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated, thank you!**

**_Some crude language is mentioned._  
**

* * *

Peeta lays the plate in front of me as he takes his seat at the table. It's two pieces of bread cut into squares with an egg at the top. There is something sprinkled on the egg.

_Maybe it's pepper._

It's a relatively simple breakfast, but for the way i've been eating for the past two weeks, it's perfect.

I can hardly hold down food anymore. Everything just comes back up. I always find myself running to the toilet during twilight. Usually after a minute or two of heaving, Peeta makes his way into the bathroom and sits next to me. He grabs a ribbon from the counter and ties my hair up into a loose bun, rubbing my back as I continue to spew. After that's all over and I flush for the last time, Peeta takes me in his arms and holds me as I cry.

_I don't know what's wrong with me._

"Katniss?"

Peeta's voice brings me back, and I notice that my eyes have wandered and fixed themselves on a curved line indented in the wooden table. Slowly, they rise and meet his. The sun coming from the windows highlight his blue eyes, given them an icy look. His face is pale.

"You alright?" There is a hint of distress.

I clear my throat and give him a half smile.

"I'm fine." I whisper as I take hold of the bread. I try not to inhale, because usually inhaling leads to the upheaval and I'm hoping, _praying_, it won't happen again today. The toast doesn't even reach my lips when I feel it again. Quickly making it's way up threw my chest. I hear Peeta's silverware hit his plate as I throw my food down, but I have no time to look at his expression, because I'm already off. One hand on clenching my stomach and the other sealing my mouth shut.

_Why is this happening to me?_

* * *

I shiver as Peeta tucks the blankets around me, cocooning me in warmth. He kisses my temple and pushes some strands of hair that escaped the bun he tied earlier behind my ear. There is a small candle on the bedside table, and I watch it dance, trying to force myself to sleep. Peeta leaves quietly, but doesn't shut the door. I hate when doors are closed. They make me feel confined. imprisoned. They remind me of..

_Don't think about it, idiot._

But it's too late. Suddenly, I'm watching the first games, quarter quell, and the uprisings all over again. I don't need to close my eyes to see everything. It relives itself right in front of me. I've been haunted by these scenes so many times I can no longer cry, but instead, let them be. Let them turn me into an empty being as they slowly strip any sign of happiness and chance of rebirth that I have.

_Had._

A muffled voice interrupts my thoughts. The images disappear and I look towards the doorway. It takes a couple of seconds for it to return, but sure enough it's real. And coming from downstairs. I practically slither out of bed and sit myself at the top of the staircase.

There he is, one arm extended, palm pressed against the wall and the other holding the telephone. I tuck my knees to my chest and rest my chin.

_Who are you talking to?_

"It's been happening for about two weeks now. And again this morning and about 20 minutes ago."

My head lifts. He's talking about me. But to whom? I want to ask. I want to get up and have him take notice that I'm here. But it's no use. I'm too weak. So instead I bring my knees in closer and hope the dark will conceal me.

"I've been making the same things I normally do, I mean- Nothing's different. She couldn't even take a bite of her toast this morning!"

There's a long pause. Suddenly Peeta's mood shifts. He straightens up, and switches the phone to his other ear. From where I sit I can see his rosy pink cheeks glowing. He runs his hands threw his hair and releases air.

"Uh," he chuckles. "Yeah. Yeah we have. I'd say it's been about a month since.."

_What are you-_

"You don't think she's _pregnant _do you?"

It all happens way too fast. My heart goes from a steady beat to an unbearable pounding within seconds. I'm gasping for air and making noises that barely sound human. I take one glance at Peeta, who has already dropped the phone and is making his way up the stairs, before I get up and run to the nearest open room I can find. I shut the door behind me and back away until my body bumps against something. A couple of folded sheets and blankets fall.

_You're in the closet._

I don't bother turning on the light. For once, the darkness is soothing. Suddenly gravity turns five times heavier and I let myself drop. My knees bang against the hardwood floor, but I can't feel it. I sit wide eyed, staring at the bottom of the door where light creeps through. I see Peeta's shadow settle itself in front of it, blocking the light. His voice softly calling my name, asking me to come out, comforting me, telling me it's okay. But they just enter through one ear and exit right out the other. Words don't mean anything. Not right now.

* * *

The state of shock eventually clears and the numbness returns. I don't know how long I've been in here but I'm sitting against the wall now, next to the door. Legs extended and hands laying softly on my stomach. I lick my lips and taste the tears that I let slip.

"Peeta?" I croak.

"Yeah?" I hear him call. His voice is pretty clear, which means he must be near the door too.

"Am I," I pause. "Pregnant? Actually _pregnant__?_" The finally words come out sounding more like a screech. I'm so thirsty, but I can't move. Peeta sits quietly for what seems like minutes.

_Say something. Anything._

"It's... Possible."

The back of my head hits the wall.

_God Dammit.._

We don't say anything to one another for a while. And by this time my knees are pressed against me again with my chin resting on them. There is something keeping me from facing Peeta.

"Do you think I'll be a good mom?" I whisper.

"Are you kidding?" I can feel him smile through the walls, and my lips lift a bit.

"I'm serious, Peeta." I look at the door, trying to imagine what he must look like right now. "I can't raise a child. I'm a mess. What if I end up like my mother? completely tuning out and neglecting him. I can't do that. How can I bring life into this world when I am barely trying to fix my own?"

Peeta's shadow moves, and I wonder if he's gotten sick of me. If he's finally gotten tired of my screams in the middle of the night, and my ability to go from happy to sad faster than a deer running from my bow and arrow. I've gotten tired of myself.

The knob of the closet door turns slowly and creaks as it opens. Peeta steps in and closes it behind him. He kneels down beside me and places a hand on the curve of my neck. His lips find mine, soft and warm and a bit moist. Our lips shift, and suddenly I've found myself in Peeta's arms again. He's holding me like he always does. I nestle my face into his chest and sigh.

"You can raise a child." He whispers. "_We _can raise a child."

My muscles tense up a bit, but Peeta pulls me in closer. He smells like bread and fresh soil. I take in his sent and hold it for as long as I can.

"We'll do it the way we won the games twice, and the way we brought down the Capitol."

I look up at Peeta and for just a second, give him a smile. A real one.

"Together?" I say. Peeta kisses me gently on the forehead and looks over to the door.

"Together."


End file.
